A Civil Brunch
by Patricia de Lioncourt
Summary: Set after "All My Exes Live in Cali." After his accidental run in with his old flame, Anyanka, Crowley decides that maybe they should do a little catching up. No time like the end of the world.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural. Buffy belongs to Whedon, and Supernatural belongs to Kripke. No money made.

**A/N:** So totally didn't intend to do a follow up to "All My Exes," but I ran across some interested parties, as well as being an interested party myself. Plus, Crowley's kind of been over my shoulder lately. As for the setting, it takes place almost right after "All My Exes," which was late S5 for Supernatural, and late S6 for Buffy. I know the timelines don't quite add up, but… and I'll say it again, fanfiction. This is just supposed to be a little funny piece. Anyhow, please enjoy!

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**A Civil Brunch**

Crowley's nose curled just a bit as a young, red-haired waitress bustled by him. The café was no one he was likely to frequent. Far too open for his taste, practically setting on the side of the road. In truth, it was setting on the corner of an intersection, and the only thing it had in the way of walls was concrete counters, something like breakfast bars. But she had picked this place for their meeting, and he had obliged.

The waitress made her way back over to him, smiling apologetically. She grabbed a menu as she looked up at him, saying, "So sorry. We're just rather slammed today. I'll get you seated right away."

"Actually, love, I see my party now," he said, pointing to the blonde with short, curly hair that waved back to him from a back corner of the café.

"Oh," the red head said. "Well, if you'd like, you can—"

"Tea, please. The best you have," he said, weaving around the flabbergasted girl as she held out her menu in vain.

Crowley made his way through the bustling, obviously college-aged, crowd until he arrived as a set of metal, retro styled chairs and tables that rose so far off the ground he had to hoist himself into the empty seat across from her.

"Crowley," Anyanka said, sipping from the plain white mug in her hand.

"Anyanka," he said, loosening his coat.

She shook her head. "Anya, please. It's what everyone's calling me these days."

Crowley acknowledged the comment with a slight nod of his head, and the waitress stopped by mid-hustle to tell him that his tea would be out in minutes. He smiled at her as she moved on. Anya shrugged.

"Busy as hell these days," she commented.

"No truer words, love. Now, enlighten me. Why was it that you called me?"

Anya's frowned, and she cast her eyes back out toward the road. She shrugged, gazing down into her beverage. She hummed a bit, tapping her fingers on the table before she looked back up at her fellow demon.

"Something's going down, isn't it?" she asked.

Crowley arched a brow. "The Apocalypse, dear. I thought you would've realized that, being who you are."

Anya groaned, shaking her head. "You have no idea how disorienting being human is. And then trying to get back into the groove of vengeance? I mean, forget it. So not like riding a bike."

"So, let me get this straight. You call me to ask if the Apocalypse was going on? Couldn't D'Hoffryn have told you the same? I'm a rather busy demon as of late."

Anya grinned as the waitress showed up at their table, depositing his tea and asking for anything else. When she was waved off, she smiled and left the two behind. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"This is the most chipper place I've seen in _days_. Like the Apocalypse is just a fairytale."

"Hellmouth," she said, taking another sip of her drink. "Odd is the norm here. I mean, they have their own resident slayer. Even the citizens that aren't aware of that exact fact, still find some subconscious level of comfort in it. They know that someone has their back against all the weird."

"The slayer's _here_?" Crowley asked, incredulous.

Anya arched a brow. "Yeah. Since like '96. Where have you been?"

"Prepping for the Apocalypse that I don't want," the King of the Crossroads huffed.

His ex laughed, nodding.

"I'd heard that much. That you had been outed as being anti-Lucifer. That's got to land you in some hot water."

"Hot something, dear, but water isn't it. I'm the most buggered son of a bitch out there, these days. And you've dodged my question again, sweetheart. Why me?"

Anya sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "I guess I got sentimental. I saw you at that redneck's house, and I guess I started to remember what a good time you and I had together. I've had so much bad luck in love recently, it was nice to see a face I remembered rather fondly."

Crowley chuckled, sipping his tea. "Fondly? That wasn't the impression I was left with. Wait…"

He leaned back, a devious grin on his face. He wagged a finger at her, laughing.

"Is this a rebound call? A little rough-and-tumble?" he asked.

Anya drew herself, the very picture of indignation. Then, after a moment, she huffed, slumping down.

"Sort of, but not how you think. I was kind of hope you and I could go cause some demonic mayhem. I mean, you remember that time you got that guy to sell his soul to you in exchange for a bar of chocolate?"

Crowley chuckled. "Well, yes, but it was a very _special_ bar of chocolate."

"See! That was fun! Let's do something like that!"

Crowley leaned forward, a knowing grin on his lips. "You still haven't been summoned for vengeance, have you?"

Growling, Anya pressed her back against the chair, crossing her arms and huffing.

"No."

He laughed, shaking his head.

"To tell you the truth, I'd love nothing more than to cause a little murder and mayhem. But the fact of the matter is, I've got to lay low. Things are happening fast, and the end of days is near. Looks like those blokes with the signs will actually be right this time."

Anya leaned forward. "Like what?"

"A virus, for one, being shipped out in the form of a vaccination," Crowley said.

As if on cue, a growl sounded from outside the café as a person, who was clearly not himself, came crashing over the first counter. He was followed shortly by a short blonde-haired woman, wielding a battle axe. Anya rolled her eyes.

"And of course, here's come _Buffy_ to save the day," she muttered, sipping her drink some more as the patrons around the two demons became panicked and began running out into the streets.

"Buffy?" Crowley snorted. "_That's_ the slayer?"

"Yeah. Whoop. Don't tell me _you're_ interested in her too?"

Crowley gazed back across the table. Anya looked as if a "yes" answer would be the last straw, so he only grinned.

"Just thinking wishfully, I'm afraid," he said.

"Demon deal?"

He nodded.

The café was all but empty now as the crazed man went flying off just to Crowley's right. Buffy's axe landed right below Anya's elevated feet.

"Anya, do you mind?" the slayer called.

Anya groaned. Mumbling, she hopped off her seat, picked up the axe, and tossed it at Buffy. She caught it without a thought, coming up right behind Crowley and beheading the man. The head rolled away, and Buffy looked more than a little saddened at the fact that the body was still there.

"What was that?" Buffy asked, looking right past Crowley and at Anya.

Crowley answered anyway. "A victim of the Croatoan virus. Deadly, zombie-like buggers."

Buffy arched a brow at the demon, jerking a thumb in his direction as she addressed Anya again.

"New boyfriend?" she asked.

"Old one. Crowley, Buffy. Buffy, Crowley. He's a demon," Anya said, leaning on her hand.

Crowley smiled as Buffy muttered, "'Sup." After that, the slayer made her excuses, dragging the body of the dead virus victim as she went. Crowley shook his head, turning back to Anya.

"You called _me_ for chaos, when you're living in a town that deals with problems like _that_? Are you sure you don't just want sex?"

Anya groaned, throwing her head back. "Goodbye, Crowley."

Crowley stood, grinning. "It's been lovely, dear. Provided the world doesn't end, we'll have to play catch up again soon."

And with a snap of his fingers, he was gone. Anya arched a brow, staring down at the table. She smacked her hand against it once in annoyance.

"Bloody bastard didn't even pay for his damn tea," she muttered.

Demons sucked.


End file.
